


Lying In My Sheets and Through Your Teeth

by Violette_Pleasures



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Deception, Dirty Talk, Dreams, Dubious Consent, Grief/Mourning, Lies, Loss, M/M, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Rough Kissing, idk how else to tag it's a doozy, small canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 08:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19786717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Pleasures/pseuds/Violette_Pleasures
Summary: Peter only wishes he'd been brave enough to tell Tony how he felt before, would give anything for another chance to and he finds that in dreams, anything is possible. Even if it all feels too real, a dream is a dream.(idk FFH spoilers maybe?)





	Lying In My Sheets and Through Your Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like two hours like the day after seeing Far From Home and have been just sitting on it cuz I kept wondering if it was too dark? But whatevs, here I am (n v n)/)) I sort of messed with the timeline a little...anyways, hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you guys think!

“I just wish...I wish I had been brave enough to tell him how I felt.”

Peter's feet swung back and forth over the ledge of the building he was perched on. The skyline of Prague glimmered before him, old and beautiful. The statues beside him, weathered through the years, seemed to be staring back at him, filling him with an odd sort of unease.

“I can't imagine how you feel,” Ned's voice crackled slightly through the phone. He was the only one who knew how Peter had really felt about his late mentor Tony Stark. “But you can't beat yourself up about it, man. You'll drive yourself crazy wondering over the what-ifs.”

“I know...but everywhere I go, I see his face and then Fury...” Peter clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath he let out calmly through pursed lips. “I feel like I'm stuck in the past and can't move forward.”

“You'll find a way to move passed it in your own time.” There was rustling on the other end of the line. Sounded like sheets being pulled across a bed. “Maybe you just aren't done grieving yet. And that's okay, you know? There isn't some limit on how long you're allowed to grieve or how long it takes to get over things.”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed again, breath coming out wet and shaky. A tear rolled down his cheek and when had he started crying? “Maybe you're right. But, uhm, I'll let you go. See you tomorrow?”

“Night, Peter. And stay safe.”

“I will.”

Almost as soon as he ended the call, Mysterio floated up into Peter's line of sight, his blue helmet a glowing swirl of blue smoke.“Fury asked me to come up here and see how you were doing, he felt bad about snapping at ya.”

“Really?” Peter asked with no small amount of disbelief.

“You guys do have sarcasm on this earth, right?” Quentin chuckled. It sounded odd and echoy through the glass dome of his helmet.

Peter huffed a laugh, looking down and away. Of course Nick wasn't actually sorry. The man gave off a distinct vibe that he probably never genuinely apologized for anything.

“You alright, kid? You look like you've been crying.” The older man's helmet dissipated as he lowered himself onto the ledge beside Peter, sitting close enough to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

Peter jumped at the contact. It was just like the first time he—“Ah, yeah, no I'm, uh, I'm okay.”

“Have you always been this bad of a liar?” Quentin gave him a soft, teasing look that made Peter feel almost flustered. It was like the phantom tingle of a lost limb, Quentin looked so much like Mr. Stark, even sounded like him. The older man's face shifted to a look of genuine concern, Peter knew he had to have looked as panicked as he felt, and removed his hand from Peter's shoulder. “Whoa, are you okay, really? You look like you're going to be sick.”

“I do feel a little nauseous. Probably just all the new foods I've been eating, right?” Peter tried for a carefree, easy laugh, but it sounded off to his own ears.

There was a lapse of silence where Quentin gazed at Peter for a long moment, his blue eyes sharp and intense, yet so sad and understanding and it left Peter feeling utterly vulnerable, like he was laid bare before the other man. “What Fury said down there, I know it's none of my business and I don't really know you, Peter, but...” He paused, shifting his focus out onto the horizon line like the words he wanted to say were written in the sky itself. “...I don't think what he said was true. I didn't know him, but Tony Stark seemed like an intelligent person and a good judge of character, and well, I don't think he would've picked you if he didn't believe in you.”

Peter swallowed hard, vision blurring, as he listened to every word Quentin said. His lip trembled and all the tears he'd been trying to hold back spilled over and ran down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. It wasn't like him to cry over a few kind words, but he already was feeling so broken down that he wasn't surprised when it happened.

“C'mere, kid.” Quentin smiled easy again and pulled him into a quick side hug, patting his back a little too roughly. “It's going to be okay, alright? All that's left is for you to believe in yourself, Peter. I believe in you...I believe in Spider-Man.”

“I-I don't,” Peter's voice was tight, throat closed up around a sob he refused to release. “I don't know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything.” Quentin levitated upwards, hovering over the edge of the building. “Just make sure you're well rested for tomorrow. The fire elemental is going to be the toughest.”

///

Back at the hotel, Peter fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning, the mattress squeaking every time he did so. He doesn't know how he managed to sleep at all considering the impending battle tomorrow would bring, but he also knew he needed to be at his strongest to fight this thing.

Just as he was finally really drifting off, Peter's stomach lurched with the wicked sensation of a falling dream and he jolted awake. But maybe not really because once he opened his eyes, he found himself in a familiar workshop hundreds of miles away. His breath caught as he stood and started walking around. Everything was where it should be, an orderly sort of chaos covering every work bench, Dum-E was scooting around with a broom in the back.

Peter ran his fingertips along the edge of a work desk and the sensation was almost too real to be a dream, but how else could he be standing in Tony's workshop when he knows for a fact he's asleep in his bed in Prague? There were even the always present, comforting smells of oil and solder, Italian espresso and expensive cologne. The only thing missing was...

“Hey, kiddo.”

Peter's heart slid up into his throat. He felt nailed to the spot, too scared to turn around but every inch of him practically vibrating with the need to. He took a deep breath and turned around.

There stood Tony Stark, his mentor, his confidant, his first love. He was smiling that usual effortless way, his hair was a bit disheveled and he was wearing his weekend clothes, an old band tee and relaxed jeans. He was cleaning his hands off with an oil rag, wiping away black smudges of grease that looked like they belonged there. He even smelled the same, a warm, rich, spicy scent.

And Peter couldn't speak. He stood there staring for the longest moment before he shook himself out of it. “M-Mr. Stark?”

“Were you expecting someone else?” Tony smirked, confident and cocky as ever.

“No...no I wasn't. I just...didn't...expect to—nevermind.”

“So what was it you wanted to tell me earlier?” Tony sauntered closer, leaning back against the edge of a table, tossing the soiled rag on top. “I know we got interrupted, but I'm all ears now.”

Oh. This was his subconscious replaying everything he'd talked about that night with Ned, it was it's way of coping and processing the information. He knew when people dreamed, it was usually related the thing that stood out the most to them during their day. The thing that had stood out most to him was his desire to see Tony one more time, to have the courage to tell him how he felt.

“Well, I wanted to say...” _It's just a dream_ , he told himself, _it's all a dream_. He looked down at the floor as he twiddled with his shirt and smiled to himself, feeling silly for feeling so embarrassed. “...that I like you, Mr. Stark. A lot.”

“Is that all?” Tony huffed a laugh, not at all mocking, something full of affection. “I like you too, kid.”

“No, not like that, I meant...let me show you.” Peter stepped forward, blushing from chest to hairline, until he was almost chest to chest with his mentor and crush and his heart rate was getting dangerously high. _It's all a dream._ He went up onto his tip toes and pressed his lips to Tony's, short, sweet and chaste. When he pulled back Tony looked shocked and he worried he'd ruined his own dream. “...l-like that.”

The next thing he knew, Tony's eyes clouded over with a dark, borderline feral look. His whiskey and honey toned eyes shifted to something dark as chocolate and tar, gleaming with something that had Peter getting so aroused he thought he might melt. The older man grabbed at Peter with rough hands, hoisting him up and crushing their lips together in another kiss that stole the air right out of Peter's lungs and replaced it with Tony's name.

“Tony,” Peter sighed between kisses, feeling those annoying tears pricking the corners of his eyes again. “Tony...” His name was on his lips like a prayer, chanted over and over as he was consumed by the older man.

Peter moaned when Tony's strong hands found his ass and squeezed hard through his jeans. Every sound he made was swallowed up by Tony and he felt himself growing dizzy with the passionate voraciousness with which he was being handled and kissed. It all felt too real in a way that left him feeling like he was still in free fall, it was all topsy turvy.

The next thing he knew, he was being lowered down onto a sofa that seemed to have manifested out of nowhere and Tony was hovering over him and attacking his neck with kisses. Things were moving so quickly in a way only dreams did and part of him wanted desperately to slow things down so it could last, so he could savor it, hold onto this moment forever.

Hands slid under his shirt making Peter shiver. Calloused fingers found his nipples and started toying with them just this side of too rough and painful. Tony seemed to know exactly where the border of pain and pleasure existed for Peter and kept him teetering back and forth over the edge and Peter had to close his eyes to keep himself from getting overwhelmed. He moaned loudly when one of the sensitive buds was plucked harshly, stiffening it into a reddened peak.

“God, kid, you're so sensitive,” Tony husked, low and growling, near Peter's ear. The older man pressed his hips down into Peter's making him gasp as he felt Tony's hard on rubbing against his hip. “The things I'm gonna do to you.”

Peter could only whimper and nod in response, giving Tony every permission and consent to do whatever he wanted. Tony could wrench Peter open, take him apart and rewire him into whatever way would suit him best and Peter would be grateful for it. He barely managed a quiet, desperate sounding “Please!” that made Tony smirk at him in a positively sinful way.

Tony started in on Peter's clothes, tearing them away with such unbridled need, Peter could only lay there and let him do as he pleased. Despite his best efforts, he was starting to get overwhelmed and by the time Tony freed his cock from the too tight confine of his jeans and briefs, Peter was seconds away from coming.

“Please, Mr. Stark...hurry.” Peter whined. He choked on his own breath when Tony wrapped a large, experienced hand around his hard member and stroked upwards, milking a drop of precum from the purpling tip. He kept going, working Peter up into a frenzy, until he was biting his lip so hard it was bleeding to stave off the inevitable.

“You think you're ready for that, baby?” Tony purred, leaning over Peter to suck one of his sore nipples into his mouth, soothing the ache with a skilled swipe of his tongue as his thumb did the same across the tip of his cock.

“Yes.” Peter closed his eyes again in attempt to gain hold of his ever slipping control. It was a dream, of course he could take it, even if he was a virgin, he could do whatever he wanted right now without consequence.

He glanced up when he felt Tony's weight shift off of him as he stood and started removing his own clothes and god, Tony was beautiful. Thin silvery scars were etched into his golden skin, souvenirs from all his battles running along his ribs and torso. The largest scarring, of course, was at the center of his chest where the arc reactor had been removed, skin had been grafted and then remodeled again to accommodate for the nanite casing. The hair grew in sparsely there, sprouting up around and between the furled edges of scar tissue.

Peter blushed as his gaze dropped lower to Tony's manhood sitting proud and erect between his muscled thighs looking just as near to bursting as Peter's felt. He subconsciously palmed himself, feeling like he could come from the sight alone. Their eyes met and Tony lips twitched upwards as he watched Peter watching him and he quickly averted his eyes feeling embarrassed at having been caught staring.

Shyly, he spread his legs further apart, inviting Tony to invade and claim the space between his thighs. Tony obliged, settling down between his legs and kissing Peter rough and possessive once more.

“So eager, aren't you?” Tony breathed a laugh onto Peter's tongue when he nodded in response. A bottle of lube materialized out of nowhere and Tony was sitting back on his heels to squeeze some out onto his long, talented fingers. He squished it around between his fingers, coating them and warming up the goopy substance. “This may hurt a bit, but I'll be as gentle as I can.”

Fingertips ghosted over Peter's entrance, wet and slippery, and he jumped slightly at the foreign sensation. After a minute, he was able to calm down and enjoy it, but he couldn't help tensing a little when that first finger penetrated him and pressed deep inside. His breath hitched in his chest coming out in a stilted, shuddery moan when Tony's finger found that spot inside him Peter had only ever had the luck of managing to brush against a handful of times.

“That's the ticket, isn't it, sweetheart?” Tony's dark voice rumbled, enveloping Peter in tingles and shivers that just wouldn't stop. “That feel good?”

“Y-yes, god, Tony—! Please..more...” Peter begged, sounding so wrecked and pitiful to his own ears. He just needed, needed more, needed it now, needed Tony.

A second finger joined the first and Peter's back bowed, arching up off the sofa in an almost painful curve. Tony kept fingering him for a moment longer, making an approving grunt once he was satisfied with his prep and withdrew his fingers.

“Here we go, kid.” Tony leaned back over Peter, supporting himself with one hand while the other stroked his cock and lined it up with Peter's virgin entrance. The growl he let out as he started pushing forward was something Peter had never imagined he would ever elicit from another person, it was so primal and animalistic. “Fuck, you're so tight, Peter...”

“Mr. Stark...” Peter clung to Tony's shoulders, trying so hard to center himself as he was breached for the first time. The pain was so searing he could feel it burning into his flesh in a way that felt too real, in a way a dream never had before. He whimpered and cried out, fresh tears streaming down his face, when Tony's hips finally met his backside. “Tony...it's so...you're so big.”

“Yeah? You like that though, don't you?” Tony started easing out, rocking his hips back and forth, allowing Peter to get used to the foreign sensation of having someone inside him. “I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, Peter.”

The raw possessiveness in Tony's voice felt so real, so genuine, he was surprised his imagination could ever conjure something like that up. It was what he had always wanted though, for Tony to want him, to want to possess him, to own him down to his very core.

Tony finally fully withdrew and started thrusting forward. It hurt, Tony was just so big, but the pain quickly subsided and flipped into a pleasure Peter couldn't begin to describe. He pulled Tony down on top of him, the nanite case pressing into his sternum, and buried his face in the crook of the older man's neck. He felt his skin growing damp with tears, but he didn't care, he just held on tighter to Tony, never wanting to let him go.

Peter angled his hips upwards as he grew more confident, allowing Tony to get deeper. When his cock ran over that spot inside him, Peter's hips jerked. Tony groaned in approval and started moving faster, pistoning his hips up and down. All Peter could do was hang on and let Tony do as he pleased, he was too far gone, limbs turned all wobbly and weak.

“I'm going to make you mine.” Tony growled, hips starting to lose their rhythm. “I'm going to own you body and soul, Peter Parker...never going to let you go.”

For the first time in his life, Peter came entirely untouched, shooting thin ropes of pearly white across his stomach and between their chests. The high was so intense it made his teeth chatter and all too quickly he felt himself falling into unconsciousness, stars winking in his vision. He couldn't believe he could pass out from feeling so good, in a dream no less.

He forced his last coherent thought out from between his lips.“I love you, Mr. Stark...” And then everything went black.

///

Tony watched on as Peter passed out from the intensity of his orgasm, grinning smug and satisfied with himself for having wrecked the boy so perfectly. It didn't take much more and he too was coming, filling Peter's limp body up until his cum was leaking out around him. He groaned at the sloppy feeling of Peter's slick insides, the way his puffy hole clenched around him even in sleep.

There was a barely audible click as Tony pressed a button on a small remote in his hand. With a faint warbling sound, the room began to change, turning back into Peter's hotel room, small drones hovering near silently where furniture and machinery had once been.

As he lingered over the boy on his bed, still connected, Tony's face wavered and shifted like the shimmer of a mirage on the hot desert sands.

“Don't worry, kid,” Quentin whispered his dark promise as he brushed a sweat dampened curl from the sleeping boy's face. “I can be your new Tony.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh I did not want to tag this as Quentin/Peter because I sort of wanted like a gasp! moment, but I was worried I might squick someone X(


End file.
